Private The Wrong Contact

[Lefwen Claskier]

“…but most of all, let us celebrate the bright future that lays ahead of us.”

As the light-globes that circled the plaza brightened and the clapping died down Lefwen felt exposed. Around her groups of official looking people laughed and gossiped at their tables as waiters flitted between them. She allowed her own glass to be filled and then returned to gazing out across the crowd. The fundraiser had certainly drawn a lot of people, although it she was here for one person in particular.

It had cost a lot of money to arrange the meeting she needed, and even more for a set of counterfeit ID that had gained her
access to such an exclusive event. The second part seemed to have paid off at least, as the guards had given her no trouble at the gate. As for the meeting, however, there was no sign as of yet. She leant over and rearranged the floral centrepiece again, ensuring that the purple Epican violet was standing tallest among the many other exotic flowers. If her host was here then he should notice the sign.

She leant back once more and let herself take another sip of her drink. Her hands were shaking, and ever since the job on Tibrin her prosthetics had become even more sensitive to her nerves. She watched as the mechanical fingers twitched unnervingly beneath her gloves, vaguely disgusted. She’d needed replacements for a long time: on her left hand the third and fourth fingers weren’t even adult-sized, adding to the unnerving image. Perhaps if tonight paid off… if her contact ever arrived…

“Madame Corsanda,” a warm voice said suddenly. Lefwen clenched her fists to keep them from shaking and looked up with a practiced smile. Her lips folded slightly when she saw that the man was just a waiter. “Would you like to see the current listings for the donations?”

“Er,” she faltered. “Ah, certainly – although I assume I’ve been outbid by the… dammit what was their names? She’d rehearsed this… the Ordenna family?”

The attendant said nothing and handed over a data-pad displaying the current donations given in support of Princess Morrega. Her donation, barely above the minimum buy-in to the event, had indeed been far exceeded by many other families and companies looking to curry favour with the supposed heiress, and at the top of the list lay a single company name: Claskier Technologies Incorporated. The reason she was here. She felt her hands starting to shake again. “Would you like to place another donation, Madame?”

Lefwen looked up from the data-pad, her eyes focussing on the middle distance as she tried to think of a way to decline without seeming poor. The crowd was growing thicker now as the guests made their way between the tables or towards the bar. Everyone knew that Morrega was an unlikely successor to Eiattu 6’s throne; finding the right tables to sit at and the right circles to stand in was the real reason the great and the good had come out to this event. Her contact was still nowhere to be seen, however.

“Erm, no thank you,” she said slightly too sternly. “Excuse me, I think perhaps I’m too fond of this fine champagne – could you point me in the direction of the gardens?”

With one last furtive look around Lefwen set off in the direction of the plaza’s ornamental gardens. She couldn’t bare the wait any longer; if her contact arrived now he would just have to wait for her to return. She clenched her fists as she walked, once again feeling exposed as the light-globes shone brightly overhead.

 

[Amilthi Camlenn]

Amilthi was mildly amused by the realisation that the unpleasantness that Adron Malvern had been insisting on subjecting her to by bringing her to the formal events he loved so much had, ironically, had an empowering effect on herself: she now knew how to move with some effectiveness in circles foreign to her. Part of her nature still revolted against it, wanted to insist that these circles were not worth engaging in - but Amilthi had grown wiser than that. Rich and powerful people were often not actually worse than anyone else - once on looked beyond the surface, they were just like all others, they suffered, trapped in the games they played and in the patterns of their own minds, disoriented, helpless. But they had influence, and setting them on the right path could be ever so much more impactful. To do so was not to insert oneself into politics and scheming and manipulation, nor even to persuade anyone of one view or policy over another. That was an occupation that Amilthi steadfastly regarded as inappropriate for a Jedi. The right way to influence them was to show them, to teach them to see for themselves, the truth about their own minds. Everything else just followed.

There was also a practical exigency that Amilthi had become ever more sensitive to as she acquired greater seniority and authority among her fellow Jedi. The order subsisted, to the extent that it could not produce things for itself, on charitable donations. These were not readily given to strangers whose role in the galaxy and its many wars was coming ever more into question; to strangers who had mysterious abilities that set them apart from the rest of the galaxy, and who saw themselves as different from others on their account. But it was much different when people saw and experienced for themselves the knowledge the Jedi held and could share. There was much wisdom about the nature of the mind and the universe that was accessible even to those who were not categorised as 'Force-sensitive', and more than one spiritual tradition in the galaxy did not put stock in such a distinction. The Chalactan Adepts, for example, possessed genuine attainments which were quite independent from the Force. Amilthi thought that the Jedi should do the same to spread the benefits of the gifts they had to give throughout the galaxy.

Through some series of coincidences, she had made the acquaintance of a certain Rufon Tast. She understood that he owned a large corporation of some kind or other, she understood some kind of military supplier that delivered to the Confederacy and had been considered something of a recluse due to an incurable affliction that frequently caused him debilitating headaches. None of the physicians he had consulted, eminent specialists and authorities in their field, had been able to help him as he hoped, and he was terrified of allowing the neurosurgical implantations that had been suggested to him. Amilthi had been quite clear that she did not approve of his livelihood, but had taken pity on him. So she had learnt that the enterprise he had inherited from his father should not be taken to define his character. Rufon Tast had begged for her help when she hinted that there was a solution to his problem, and had been entirely undeterred when she had revealed that she could not solve his problem for him, but could merely guide him in the hard work that he himself, and none other, would have to do in order to overcome the affliction. It was much to her surprise that, when Amilthi was invited to his secluded estate, he did indeed give himself fully to her instruction and applied himself arduously for months. And after such time of rigorous meditation practice, he had made tremendous progress, the attacks of his pain had become rarer, and when they did occur, he could endure them with equanimity. He declared that he was practically reborn as a new person and would never lapse from his practice, and had started to tell his friends about his transformation with an enthusiasm that was practically endearing.

Tast had insisted that Amilthi absolutely needed to accompany him as a plus-one to a certain event where he wished to introduce her to some friends and business partners, and she had reminded herself to keep an open mind and had relented. There she was now, an unassuming appearance in her simple black tunic and trousers, detached, but friendly, indulgent even in making small-talk with this person and that. Had she wanted, she could have had many more eyes on her by dressing differently - but it would have been profoundly antithetical to her purpose, if she had any, to attract the attention. As it was, the manner in which she carried herself with self-contained confidence, and her earnest demeanour, did not even give occasion for gossip of any sort, not to mention the fact that Tast persisted in introducing her to everyone as his spiritual teacher and made no suggestion of ownership of any kind.

Amilthi had just spent a good hour, rather longer than the average conversation seemed to last at this place, explaining to a man just what had happened to his old friend and why he seemed so transformed. Amilthi had found a certain pleasure and amusement in the wonder she had provoked. How little all these rich and powerful people knew about just what was possible in this universe!

Tast was middle-aged and rather short, that was to say, Amilthi's own height. He had a soft, but not fat face, no attractive, but pleasant, and much to everyone's confusion, he smiled a lot. As he led her from the artful, but artificial gardens, her eyes briefly brushed upon a young woman who was slipping outside. Amilthi's attention followed the girl for a brief moment, for no particular cause - but this behaviour of her own mind did not escape the Jedi master's awareness.

[member="Lefwen Claskier"]

 

[Lefwen Claskier]

The ornamental garden was quieter than the main plaza. A few dignitaries spoke in hushed corners amidst the semi-crystal spires, and lovers met under the shade of exotic artificial flowers and majestic flash-cloned trees. Lefwen paced alone. Her prosthetics were now giving her a lot of trouble. She never should have left the table: if her contact arrived now he might get spooked and leave, making the whole night a waste of time and money. She'd owe Fraux a fortune for the loan she'd taken out to cover her buy-in and ID, and she'd been on his bad side before. She'd have to skip the sector, maybe head deeper into the Confederacy or try to find some work in the Outer Rim. She had a few contacts out on Skynara, and Xib-Ro still owed her a favour.

She was snapped out of her daydreaming as a man bumped into her from the side. She looked up, but he didn't even glance around, too lost in conversation with the immaculately dressed woman he was accompanying. Lefwen didn't fit in here, not anymore. Perhaps a decade and a half ago she could have enjoyed this kind of party, but now she just felt out-of-place. She needed to blend in more, she'd revised all of this, revisited what she'd been taught as a young woman - how to hold her glass, how to walk, how to talk. It was all like re-opening old wounds. Although, she smiled, that was technically the point of this entire plot.

She'd come to a stop beside a small ornamental pond. From here she had a fairly complete view of the plaza, including the table she had been sat at. Still empty, the proud Epican violet still standing tall among the rest of the centrepiece. The fundraiser's guests moved in small groups, although the crowd was densest at the front - no doubt filled with the most respectable and wealthy of attendees. She slowed her thinking for a moment and let feelings reach out. Most people were in good spirits, their feelings fogged over by alcohol. For a moment her thoughts rested on somebody near the entrance to the garden, somebody who seemed to be almost coldly in control of their feelings. In Lefwen's senses it appeared almost like an island of calm in the mildly turbulent emotions of the rest of the crowd. She glanced over but couldn't pick out any likely mark. She closed her eyes once more and allowed herself to get lost in the wash of emotions emanating from the party's guests.

"I do hope I'm not intruding, M'lady," a calm, tempered voice broke through Lefwen's thoughts. She looked around to see a tall, immaculately dressed man standing a few feet away. He was perhaps 50 years old, with round, clean-shaven features and a large, flat nose. Lefwen felt her throat tighten and her prosthetics begin to twitch. Ordovel Masc, one of Claskier Technologies' most senior figures. He had given a speech earlier in the evening, his strong voice booming out across the plaza. She had been too far back to see him then, but the voice had been familiar. And now here he was, a man who'd known her, a man who could expose her. It had been a long time, perhaps he wouldn't recognise her? Perhaps he already had...

"It's just that, of all the places in this beautiful garden this is perhaps my favourite. Would you mind if I joined you?"

Lefwen relinquished her iron grip on the railing behind her and coughed slightly, wishing she still had a drink to wet her mouth. She had to act like she belonged. "Of course not, vice-secretary."

Ordovel nodded his head and stepped beside her, taking the railing in his hands and gazing out across the crowd. "Amazing, isn't it. After all that Eiattu 6 has been through so many people still come out to celebrate a glimmer of hope."

"Amazing," Lefwen replied. What the clem do I do?

"It truly is." Ordovel didn't seem particularly interested in her replies, which was good. He turned abruptly. "Ah, where are my manners? I am Ordovel Masc, vice-secretary of Claskier Technologies Incorporated." He gave Lefwen a wink. "Although, you already know that. Tell me, to whom do I owe the pleasure?"

Lefwen swallowed again, but memories of formal training from her youth kicked into gear. "Elessa Corsanda, junior partner at Adelman and Aster." She held out her hand and allowed him to take it and kiss it gently, fighting hard to keep her fingers from shaking.

"Ah, Adelman and Aster. I knew I recognised you - we've had a few dealings with Adelman and Aster recently. Tell me, how's Ms Aster these days?"

This was a test, she knew it. She tried to think back to her notes for this evening but her mind was blank, gripped with panic. Ordovel was still holding her hand, and his eyes seemed to be studying her own. For a moment she allowed herself to reach out and test his feelings: he was confident, calm, but there was a determination that seemed to tinge all of his thoughts. Over his shoulder, Lefwen could spot a tall figure approaching, dressed all in black and reaching into his jacket pocket. She'd been found out, surely, somehow. The figure reached out towards her, producing something from his pocket. A blaster? A syringe? Lefwen's mind raced.

The darkly dressed figure spoke abruptly. "Vice-secretary Masc, a call from head-office." A holo-pad was held in his hand, offered out towards Ordovel.

Ordovel released his hold on Lefwen's hand and smiled. "Ah, I do apologise m'lady. Duty calls." He gave a short bow before turning and walking away, the holo-pad held close to his ear. Lefwen heard herself exhale and curled her fingers into fists again, willing them to stop shaking. He had to know, or at least be suspicious. She glanced around, checking the party-goers all around her. None of them seemed interested, lost as they were in their own conversations. Without thinking she found herself walking back towards the main party: she had to grab her things and leave now, it was the only safe thing to do. Screw Fraux and his loan-sharks, she'd have to make back the money some other way, it was too dangerous now.

She reached her table quickly, having pushed through the crowds and past the waiters to get there, her feet barely touching the ground. She fumbled the key to her table-locker with shaking hands before finally clicking it open and reaching inside to grab her bag.

"Miss Corsanda?" a voice interjected. She glanced up with a panicked expression, noticing immediately the vivid purple flower that adorned this new stranger's buttonhole. The stranger took a seat opposite her, gesturing for a waiter to bring him a drink. "Our mutual friend sends his greetings."

[member="Amilthi Camlenn"]

 

[Amilthi Camlenn]

They had almost reached the table with their designated spots when Amilthi stopped in her tracks as Tast cried out. "I say, old chap! What a pleasure to see you here." - "Rufie! You were supposed to be dreadfully ill!" She smiled wryly to herself, then turned slowly and leaned forward to look past her companion and take a look at said chap, who wasn't as old as all that, and in fact probably Tast's junior. "Greatly exaggerated!"

Just as she considered whether she should make a step forwards to leave this rather odd and forlorn position behind Tast's back, he deftly moved to the side and commenced introduction. "Miss Camlenn, this is Mr. Beltran Ordenna, an old friend of mine. We made a marvellous coup - I speak business, not politics - together some years back, didn't we?" The stranger gave only the barest of nods in acknowledgement and was examining Amilthi, clearly unsure where to place her and possibly confused that she was a 'Miss'. "This is Miss Camlenn. I owe it to her that you see me standing before you here in full health. You know I've always had trouble with that head of mine, used to hurt like the deuce. No more, I say!"

A brief urge to flinch under the stranger's eyes arose in Amilthi's mind, was noticed, and passed away, far from ever approaching an outward expression. She met his gaze with a fine smile, friendly, unassuming, resting peacefully in herself, and yet thoroughly unmovable. "It's always a pleasure to make the acquaintance or Mr. Tast's friends", she said with a slight inclination of her head. Her hands remained folded in front of herself and she did not seem to have any intention of moving them.

Tension accumulated in Beltran Ordenna's features over the course of a second or two and then was finally released abruptly and, finding no other way to deal with the situation, he broke into a smile. "Do tell what you did to his head! Set it spinning, eh?" he said jovially.

"Quite the opposite, I daresay. I steadied it", Amilthi heard herself say enigmatically.

"You must know, Beltran, she has these techniques, exercises - meditation, in effect. You sit all alone and your back hurts like hell, but it does wonders for all your pains and worries."

Ordenna raised an eyebrow and was clearly wondering whether some sort of prank was being played on him.

"Oh, but do come sit with us!", Tast broke the incipient silence. "It's not your seat, but what of it, it's unoccupied."

Amilthi was soon quite clear that unlike the man she had spoken to before, this one was no friend of any sort of Tast's, but merely a business partner as they showed noticeably less interest in each other's lives. She entertained the conversation politely, observed herself doing so, feeling like it was very much not her who was asking Ordenna about his views on Princess Morrega and her prospects, and listening to words that did not interest her in the slightest. It was quite fascinating to behold what this mind of her was doing without her interference, and it had a taste of absurdity to it that amused the Jedi.

At one moment, her gaze fell further down the table, where the same young woman who she had noticed earlier in the garden had now settled with a man wearing a striking purple buttonhole. They were sitting opposite to each other and clearly ill at ease. Nobody was close to them. It was a curious occurrence and Amilthi took a mental note of it again, but her eyes did not linger.

[member="Lefwen Claskier"]

 

[Lefwen Claskier]

Lefwen hushed her voice as a man broke into a raucous cry only a short distance away. She glanced over, noticing two men and woman standing together. Another laugh came from somewhere on the other side of the gathering, her eyes darting over towards it. She closed her eyes for more than a blink and tried to calm her nerves.

"I was told that you would be providing all of the information tonight," she said, her voice quiet and slightly croaky. She pointed to the holo-pad he had placed between them. "That isn't even half of what I paid for." The man had arrived as expected, although he wasn't exactly what she expected. Austin Goros was a rather large man, thick set and broad and altogether not at all resembling the meek, thin data specialist-turned-corporate spy she was expecting. Indeed, he had the physique of a bodyguard more than a splicer. That wasn't important though, she knew all too well that looks could be deceiving. What mattered was that he had what she was paying him for.

The man leaned back comfortably in his chair. "As I told our friend, it was always going to be difficult to offload it all from the central server in time for this meeting." He paused and reached out for his drink. He studied her through the rim of his glass for a moment before putting it back down. "And while we're listing grievances: I was also told that I would be paid in full."

Lefwen raised her own glass and thought for a moment. She suddenly felt much more comfortable, much safer in this home of cloak-and-dagger dealings than she had when making pleasant conversation with other guests. This was a game she knew how to play. While she supped her drink she let herself reach out again, lightly touching on the feelings of those around her. The man was calmer than she'd expected him to be, although he had no doubt done all of this before. There was nervousness, certainly, but no more than her own. She allowed herself to test the other people nearby, a reflex she'd picked up from hard experience - it was better to know if somebody nearby was preoccupied with darker thoughts than to find out when they'd already drawn their blaster. Most of the guests seemed contented: a group of well-dressed young men flashed with stress and confidence as they gambled at a table; a woman, alone, sat and watched the guests with disgust and apathy; a man and woman a few tables away were flushed with romance, Lefwen blushed as her attention passed over them. Nearby a new group had appeared, a group of CTI employees, judging from their security badges. Her attention finally fell on the two men and the woman who had caught her eye earlier. The men were unremarkable, at least compared to the rest of the crowd, but the woman was strange. Lefwen felt her attention gently wash over the woman as though it were a stream passing over a rock. It wasn't that she couldn't discern the woman's feelings at all, but more like the feelings were obscured or somehow different. Her sense of confidence was a fraction too high, her calmness felt cooler and more complex to the touch than that of other people. Curious.

The rolling of Austin's fingers on the table drew her back into the moment. Lefwen placed her drink down carefully and regarded him.

"If you cannot provide me the information I need then I fail to see why I should pay you at all."

The man huffed and leaned back once more, crossing one leg over the other. One hand fell down by his side while the other was placed firmly on the table. "You really are quite good at this, Miss Corsanda. Tell me, how did a junior partner at a third rate legal term come to be so interested in the personal arrangements of the Claskier family?"

"I thought we agreed that there would be no questions?" Lefwen stated sternly.

"Oh we did, but given how desperate for this intelligence you've shown yourself to be I think I can afford to sate my curiosity a little. Would the reason be at all connected to those embarrassing prosthetics? I'm guessing this kind of information could make a young heiress rich..."

Lefwen felt the hairs raise on the back of her neck. Her grip tightened on the stem of the glass, the sparkling wine inside fizzing as the glass trembled slightly. She had missed the full import of the man's sentence, but everything about this conversation made her nervous. This wasn't how things were meant to happen. This wasn't what she'd planned. The smart move was to cut and run now: to get out of the plaza and off-world before anyone knew about it. But she was so close to getting what she needed... So close to finding a way home. She couldn't let this chance slip away now because of some obnoxious data-broker. She wouldn't let that happen.

There was a snap of glass as her fingers closed in frustration. Wine splashed on the table and nearby a woman quietly gasped. Lefwen's attention focused as she began to notice the pain in her hand, the edge of the broken stem having nicked the underside of her fingers. The cut wasn't large, but nonetheless a small trickle of blood quickly welled up and formed a neat line across her fingers. She closed her hand and looked up at the holo-pad and, finally, up at Austin once more. His hand still hovered by his hip, his arm tense and ready. His last words flashed through her mind for an instant: 'could make a young heiress very rich...'

Lefwen stared for a moment at Austin's company badge. She heard the scrape of chair legs on the floor as the CTI employees behind her rose from their table. In her hand she gripped the broken stem of the glass. Her eyes studied every direction for some kind of exit. Her heart began to thud in her ears.

[member="Amilthi Camlenn"]

 

[Amilthi Camlenn]

Among the many things that were going on all around was the sound of a glass shattering nearby, and it was this sound out of them all that by chance Amilthi chose to attend to and note explicitly as an occurrence that had happened. It was an event that raised questions. She could have chosen to let them rest, but for now carefully let herself be led by the natural train of thoughts. She turned her head and once again saw the same young woman, sitting tense with the remnants of the broken glass in her hand. There was a thin line of blood to be spotted, but the girl did not pay it any mind or react to it. Out of the corner of her eye, Amilthi caught the movements of three figures rising from a table.

Time slowed down abruptly. Tast and Ordenna's words were suddenly drawn-out and their sentences wouldn't and wouldn't reach their end. Amilthi could not wait for them. "Excuse me", she said, and rose from her chair without awaiting any reaction from them, either, or paying any mind to what it might be.

When the three men, clearly identified by their badges as employees of the company that was hosting the event, turned around, they suddenly found themselves approached by a woman who one of them had seen sitting much further away at a table only a moment ago. Amilthi caught sight of his disconcerted frown for a split-second he could replace it with the professionally mandated mask and smiled faintly. She raised her hand gently, perhaps in an unfamiliar gesture of greeting that was current in a different part of the galaxy. "You need not be concerned with these guests", she said as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if she were entirely oblivious to the possibility that anyone might think otherwise.

The men looked at each other for a brief moment, then nodded and turned to leave. Amilthi watched their steps speed up as time accelerated again and finally turned around towards the girl, behind whose back she was now standing at a small distance, and the man opposite to her.

[member="Lefwen Claskier"]

 

[Lefwen Claskier]

Time seemed to stretch out as Lefwen tried to calculate a way out. It seemed hopeless: even if she somehow managed to get past the four men she was confronted with she would never make it out of the fundraiser.

"You must have known that you would slip up at some point, Miss Claskier," Garos quipped. He'd barely moved, still maintaining a calm position. His hand, however, had now wandered down and was firmly resting on the blaster about his hip. How had she not spotted that? How did he know who she was? There wasn't time to work that out. The longer she waited the closer the men behind her would get. She'd be black-bagged, or just dragged off kicking and screaming - it would be easy for them to excuse, what with all the unrest on Eiattu 6 these days.

'You never were the clever one.' Laphia's raspy voice intruded on her thoughts. 'You're nothing without me, sis.'

Lefwen pushed it down and scanned around again, her eyes resting on the tall vase at the centre of the table. She leaned in towards it, feigning resignation to whatever awaited her. "So what happens now, Mr Garos?"

"That depends entirely on how easy you want to make this," he replied. Garos began to move, and so did Lefwen. As Garos uncrossed his legs his blaster was covered for a mere moment. Her arm stretching out with all the force she could muster, Lefwen caught the vase with her fist and send it flying towards Garos. She pushed herself up quickly, spinning around to face the approaching guards, her hand still gripping the broken champagne flute. To her surprise, however, there were no guards to be found. Instead, behind her stood a plain, short woman who was regarding Lefwen with an expression of complete tranquillity.

[member="Amilthi Camlenn"]

 

[Amilthi Camlenn]

Amilthi's status as a Jedi would occasionally have allowed her to skirt various restriction on weapons. She did not know whether this would have applied to this event because she had not tried. Where earlier she would have felt unsafe without her lightsaber, she was now no longer so dependent. She was still grateful to Tiland Kortun for opening her eyes and teaching her another way. Not that she neglected the lightsaber or denied its immense practical value - but she had been freed of attachment to it and could dispose of it as a tool like others which sometimes it was advisable to leave at home to avoid complications.

Her eyes fell on a data pad that lay on the table between the young woman and her vis-à-vis. But there wasn't the time for her mind to chase the possibilities this suggested. Amilthi knew this a split-second before a burst of movement erupted before her. A shot arose as a mere possibility and flickered out, unactualised. Amilthi took a step forward.

A moment later she found herself eye to eye with the young woman, the broken glass still in her hand. She had been holding on to it despite the blood that covered her hand because it was intended to be used as a weapon. Amilthi saw her flushed face, the flicker of panic and surprise, the fear and desperation - saw them without passing judgement.

The Jedi caught the girl's wrist before she could decide whether to continue the movement she might originally have intended, as if plucking her hand out of the air. The pressure inexplicably made Lefwen's fingers grow weak and momentarily the stem of glass fell from her grip. Steadfastly remaining where she was, Amilthi pulled the girl towards her and past herself, as if guiding her behind her own back, without loosening her grip. Her eyes darted back to the data pad still on the table, then to the man on the other side of it.

[member="Lefwen Claskier"]

 

[Lefwen Claskier]

The small woman quickly took hold of Lefwen's arm, and before Lefwen knew what was happening she found her hand growing weaker and weaker. The broken glass quickly fell to the ground, and with a swift movement the stranger manoeuvred Lefwen behind herself and away from the table. She recognised the woman now: the same one who had caught her attention earlier, the one whose feelings she'd found hard to read. Who was she? Some kind of enforcer working for CTI? That seemed unlikely: if the woman's goal was to incapacitate or kidnap her she had just given up the perfect opportunity by moving her away from Goros, who was now standing and holding his blaster low on his hip, clearly eager not to draw too much attention.

Not that all attention could be avoided now, as the sudden rush of movement had drawn more than a few eyes their way. Any onlookers would have certainly seen a bizarre sight: one woman gripping the wrist of another, blood on both of their hands, and in front of them a thoroughly sodden man standing with a blaster at his hip, trained on the smaller woman. Lefwen was suddenly reminded of the other security guards and glanced quickly behind her. Bizarrely, though, they had abandoned their post and were now disappearing into the crowd. Lefwen was thoroughly confused, but like an animal trapped in a cage she knew she needed to escape. She tried to tug her wrist free from the woman's grip but to no avail. For a moment she considered bashing her on the back of the head, but somehow the thought seemed to disappear from her mind before she could even consider it properly. She resigned herself to leaning around the woman and watching.

Goros broke the silence first. "I don't know who you are, but you're interfering in CTI security business. Hand her over!" he hissed harshly, the muzzle of his blaster raising in the direction ofthe strange new arrival.

[member="Amilthi Camlenn"]

 

[Amilthi Camlenn]

Amilthi was getting rather curious about this girl who had stuck out to her attention as she had, and who was apparently playing a role important enough for CTI to risk an embarrassing commotion at their event. She was experienced enough to know to pay attention to these small patterns and let herself be led by them, and it meant that this girl was now the only thing that mattered for her at this event. She kept an open mind as to what kind of person she was and what Amilthi could expect to find herself doing with her, she did not even know yet whether she was meant to help or hurt, but she intended to find out on her own terms without interference.

For the blink of an eye, the possibility occurred to her to extend her attention beyond the immediate vicinity, to survey the compound, the people in it, look for the way out. But she dismissed it. Now was not the time, now was the time to remain in the moment and trust that all would reveal itself as it was necessary.

Amilthi tilted her head and gave the man a quizzical look. "I don't think Claskier Technologies wants to be known for having shootings at their events. Which is why you will let us leave without making a fuss."

The data pad on the table trembled ever so slightly, like a cat poised to pounce.

[member="Lefwen Claskier"]

 

[Lefwen Claskier]

The calmer this new arrival acted the crosser Austin Goros was getting. Ever since he'd got the call for this job he'd set things up perfectly: let the girl stew for a bit so the spotters up in the surrounding skyscrapers could properly ID her; turn up late to let her think she was in control; surround her with guards before pushing ahead... It had been planned immaculately. And now, well now that plan lay in ruins thanks to this infuriating woman. Where the hell were Jeb, Fai-ten and Salem anyway? They were meant to have sprung the trap on the clueless Claskier girl and yet they were still nowhere to be seen.

Goros wiped his brow with his free hand, keeping his blaster trained on the woman. Maybe he needed to play it cool: there's no way this new woman knew what was happening, she was just some smug Samaritan intervening in affairs that didn't concern her.

"Look dame, I don't think you quite understand who it is you've grabbed there." He began to move slowly around the table. "She's wanted by some serious people. There's no reason for us to be enemies here, just hand her over and we can all be on our way."

***​

​

​

Lefwen felt lost. It was like she was a step behind everyone else. As far as she could tell, it didn't seem this woman was anything to do with CTI and it was clear that Goros hadn't been expecting any interference. It was also clear that Goros hadn't been expecting an audience, but as Lefwen looked around it became clear that the three of them were drawing a lot of attention: the young men over at the gambling table were now on their feet, clearly working out the angles; the men who had been accompanying the strange woman were gawping at the situation; even the two lovers had let each other go for long enough to look in their direction.

Lefwen slowly began to slip off her shoes as she watched Goros slowly round the table. As far as she could tell, this new woman wasn't involved in this in any way: she wasn't working for CTI, and she certainly wasn't working for Lefwen. It seemed quite likely that she was just some bystander who had just happened to be standing behind Lefwen when she turned. All of which meant that it was only a matter of time before the woman turned her over to Goros, and that meant she had to be ready to run.

"Look dame, Mr Claskier isn't going to want anyone to get harmed here, but my orders are to bring the girl in, and you..." Goros gave the stranger a look up and down and produced a small chuckle. "Well you don't wanna be the one who gets in our way."

Lefwen felt her legs begin to coil, ready to spring into action.

[member="Amilthi Camlenn"]

 

[Amilthi Camlenn]

'Orders to bring the girl in'? What a strange affair. Perhaps this was a matter of corporate espionage. That would explain the data pad - but why would that sort of thing have caught Amilthi's attention? Perhaps there was something about Claskier Technologies that the galaxy should know?

The Jedi met Goros' eyes calmly and completely unmoved by the threat. She felt a brief temptation to give him a pert reply, but sent it on its way and presently it dissolved again. Amilthi felt the presence of the girl behind her tensing. Just for a brief moment, she squeezed the girl's wrist slightly tighter than her grip was already, as if to draw her awareness away from whatever intention was building within her, and to remind her to remain calm.

Amilthi waited, regarding the space of possibilities before her as a whole without allow her thoughts to travel down one or the other branch and explore it. She was simply open for something to suggest itself.

"Now now, I'm sure you have a very good reason to be pointing a blaster at these ladies", a voice suddenly cut through the tense silence, "but let's not be unpleasant here." Ordovel Masc had approached with swift, purposeful steps, and spreading his arms he was clearly intending to take charge of the situation. He was smiling affably and yet there was a subtext to his expression and demeanour that was almost a warning to everyone involved.

The data pad twitched once more, just enough to attract Ordovel's attention, but subtle enough for his brain to forget right away that it seemed to have moved. He went up to the table and reached for it, and Amilthi relinquished her hold on the object. Ordovel picked it up with a surprised look that turned into a frown as he examined it. He turned to look at Oros and his CTI badge. "Why is this here?" he demanded to know, suddenly a stern look on his round face. Still holding the data pad, he tapped a device on his wrist.

[member="Lefwen Claskier"]

 

[Lefwen Claskier]

Lefwen felt the stranger's grip tightening in an almost reassuring way. She felt her body loosening, despite her instinct to flee.

"Now now, I'm sure you have a very good reason to be pointing a blaster at these ladies, but let's not be unpleasant here."

A familiar voice broke through the hushed silence of the crowd, and Ordovel Masc stepped forward. Lefwen found herself moving behind the stranger, almost hiding - hoping that Ordovel wouldn't recognise her from earlier.

It was just like Ordovel to interfere. Even back when Lefwen had known him as a child he'd always been a company man, focused on two things: his own image, and the company's image. No doubt a shoot-out at a fundraiser held in honour of an influential client was something he'd very much like to avoid.

Ordovel studied the three of them for a moment before turning his attention to the data-pad on the table, which Lefwen was certain she saw vibrating slightly. Odd...

"Why is this here?" Ordovel demanded, plucking up the data-pad and consulting the similar model which was strapped around his wrist. Lefwen held her breath for a moment: while the 'pad hadn't held all of the information she had hoped it would, it was still loaded with a large amount of company data. Given that the meeting had turned out to be a trap it was unlikely to be legitimate, but it certainly looked authentic, authentic enough to fool her. Garos had clearly realised this too, as he was starting to stammer out a string of excuses. Lefwen saw her opportunity and took it. She stepped out from behind the strange woman.

"Sir, I must confess. I was sent here by the firm to help locate the source of a mole who had been slipping our clients' confidential data to other legal firms on Eiattu 6." She paused as a few members of the crowd quietly gasped. "In the process of this investigation, this man approached me, and..." she regarded Goros for a moment, savouring the look of confusion and anger on his face. "Well, he offered to sell me whatever was on that 'pad," she concluded, casting an innocent, confused look in the direction of the vice-secretary.

Ordovel mulled over what he had heard, not particularly taking the time to look up from the tablet on his wrist. His face was creased with worry, creasing more the more files he flicked through. Goros had lowered his blaster, and was now glaring at Lefwen with a look of complete contempt.

"Vice-secretary this is ridiculous. This woman is..." he began, but Ordovel held up a hand to silence him. One of the vice-secretary's bodyguards, a tall, imposing man in a perfectly tailored suit, stepped forward behind Goros, his intimidating presence looming over the flustered fixer.

Ordovel looked up from his wrist and held the tablet out towards his bodyguard. Lefwen cringed as the slab-like hand took it and secreted it away in a pocket. Even without all of the data on it it still would have been useful. She felt herself tensing again, and was met by another squeeze on her wrist from the woman who was still holding her. Ordovel savoured the moment as the crowd waited before beginning to speak again.

"I think I have seen enough here. Mr Sotoro, please take this man away," Ordovel waved his hand, not even sparing the humiliated man a glance as he was led off towards the offices by the massive bodyguard.

"Ladies, I must apologise for the disgraceful behaviour of this man." His eyes fell on Lefwen's hand, which was still stained with blood. "I do hope that no lasting damage has been caused." An orderly approached and whispered something in Ordovel's ear. The vice-secretary turned and beheld the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, let us please put the terrible disruption behind us. Tonight is a night for celebration, so let us raise our glasses and celebrate our illustrious host and the diligent men and women of Eiattu 6 who keep us safe." With that, Ordovel lifted a glass from the table and raised it. The onlookers reluctantly did the same, before turning back to their business. Ordovel gave the pair of woman a comforting smile before quickly stepping away.

Lefwen realised she hadn't been breathing and let out a raspy sigh. She felt the fingers about her wrist loosen slightly, and with a quick jerk she was able to pull herself free. Nursing her wrist in her other hand, she moved as though to quickly make her exit.

[member="Amilthi Camlenn"]

 

[Amilthi Camlenn]

Amilthi briefly smiled at Goros, with a twinkle in her eye, as if she wanted to say 'I told you so'.

She had been forced to let go of the girl‘s hand in order to allow the scene to come to an end. It came as no surprise that the young woman was all too eager to extract herself from the situation and left without so much as a word of gratitude. Amilthi bore her no ill will for it. Her gaze followed the girl briefly, but her attention... lingered.

She approached Tast and Ordenna where they were seated. Before either of the two could speak, she leaned forward and heard herself say: "I'm terribly sorry, I'm afraid this has been a bit too much..." But her attention was not fully with the event, it was fanned out, wide and spatial, encompassed an awareness of the crowd in the venue - and of the girl moving through it.

With an apologetic smile, she indicated her desire and intention to retire on this flimsy and, in light of her behaviour, hardly plausible pretext - but neither of the two men could do anything but express their disappointment. When she had turned to leave, Tast looked at his vis-à-vis and raised his shoulders as if to say that you could never quite know what these people were up to. Ordenna gave a short laugh.

Amilthi paid them no further mind and made her way towards and exit.

[member="Lefwen Claskier"]

 

[Lefwen Claskier]

Lefwen sat on the chair across from her bed, the sound of passing hover-cars the only noise to break up the silence. She’d changed back into everyday clothes, and upon the bed she’d laid out everything from her rucksack, which had been stowed in the room while she attended the fundraiser. She stepped forward and picked up her helmet, studying the crack across its front for a moment before picking it up and placing it on her head. The familiar smell was comforting, as were the finger-prints and scratches that now separated her from the world.


She didn’t own much: upon the bed now lay the tatty rucksack, a flask, a handful of credits, a couple of sets of ID and a kitchen knife which flashed in the lights of the traffic outside. She quickly packed it all away and then turned and sat on the bed, clutching the rucksack tightly on her lap, her head tilted down. How much did the company know? How much did her father know? It wasn’t clear. Nothing was clear.

Well, some things were: the evening had been a massive waste of time and credits. She’d gotten nothing out of it except a cut on her hand and a debt she couldn’t pay off. Somewhere along the line they’d got lucky, somehow found out about what she had planned. Perhaps the original data-broker had been caught and betrayed her? Perhaps it had been a trap for corporate spies, one which she’d been unlucky enough to fall into. It didn’t matter; Fraux was going to string her up by her insides, that much was certain. She had to get off-world, and given her meager credit balance that meant ship-hopping. Her head seemed to ache in memory of the last time she’d come out of hyperspace inside a cargo container, although at least it was better than getting bagged by one of Fraux’s goons and spending the rest of her life screaming.

“You need to get out,” heard Lefwen in her mind. The characteristics of the voice were dim, not fully developed, at least not as concrete as they would have been for a voice she heard speak aloud - but something about it was vaguely reminiscent of the woman who had intervened in Goros’ exploit at the event. What is happening?

Another hover-car flashed by the window, filling the room with light. and spurring Lefwen into motion. Clipping the canister that linked to her helmet into her belt she swung the backpack over her shoulder and made her way towards the door.

“The other side. The window.” The voice was in Lefwen’s head, but the steps she could now hear in the corridor certainly weren’t. Her hand lingered in-front of the door panel and she leaned in, placing her ear against the plastmetal. Thud. Thud. Thud. Quick footsteps, several people. They were pushing open the doors from the stairwell into the monitor.

Lefwen turned from the door and pulled the rucksack around from her back, drawing out the knife and slipping it into the makeshift plastic sleeve in her trouser pocket. The voice echoed in her head once more: “The window.” Lefwen paused for a moment longer. Where is the voice coming from?

The sound of the door to her corridor being forced open set her moving once more. Wish a push of the panel by the window the rusty servers lifted the glass out of the way. Cool, night air rushed in, filled with the sounds of the city. She leaned out, looking down and immediately feeling slightly sick. It was a long way. A very long way. The sounds in the corridor were getting closer: doors into the other rooms were being slammed open and the echoes of angry voices rattled through the building.


“The window it is then, whoever you are…” Lefwen thought to herself before stepping out. There was no balcony as such, but the plasteel cladding that surrounded the building had large gaps between its panels which allowed her some semblance of a foot and hand hold. She maneuvered awkwardly out of the window, gripping onto the panels with all her strength before gazing around. There was only one option at the moment: left, towards a large advertising sign which might give her some purchase to move up or down. She precariously reached through the window and slapped the panel to close the window again, and then cautiously, slowly, she edged her way along the panel, tensing at every creak and groan the old, worn metal produced. Her breath echoed around her helmet, raspy and fast. After what seemed like an age she reached the advertisement and pulled herself onto the sturdy metal beams that held the letters onto the building. She allowed herself a glance back towards her room and noted the shine of flashlights lighting up the rim of the window. Her fingers ached, but the letters gave her something to lean on and give her hands a moment to recover.

Amilthi Camlenn

 

[Amilthi Camlenn]

Amilthi could barely feel her body, which made it difficult to move. After a moment’s probing, she found it at the very edge of her consciousness and managed to induce it to get up and walk, looking rather slow and clumsy.

The vast majority of her attention space was filled out by an altogether different scene. It wasn’t that she could see Lefwen and her surroundings, but rather, she had an encompassing, non-visual awareness of the young woman and her circumstances that did not match any of the ordinary sense doors of the mind. She knew, directly and immediately, that the girl was in trouble and at risk, that she was in a hotel room, just as she knew that going through the door was a bad idea.

The Jedi jumped into one of the open hover-car taxis that were standing by at a nearby platform, and realised only after several seconds in which it did not move that the driver was expecting her to name a destination. She had none to give him, she had nothing but a direction. Words seemed too complicated to put together and she merely pointed. The man looked doubtful and hesitated for a moment, but then set the vehicle in motion and joined the seemingly endless stream of similar ones in the skylane.

Only when the girl approached the window did Amilthi come to realise exactly what she would find there, a rather convenient revelation - she had already been contemplating the possibility of having to persuade the girl to jump out and somehow catching her before she would reach the ground. Once Lefwen was finally perched on the sign outside in what could pass for safety under the circumstances, Amilthi finally let go.

She leaned back in the seat, exhausted, and waited for a momentary dizziness to pass as her own body and the input of her senses flooded back into the centre of her awareness.

”The seventh sign on the right side from now - I need you to stop underneath it.”

“But… Madam, I can’t do that! The lane…” objected the driver hesitantly and awkwardly. Naturally, he was not allowed to leave the lane and steer the hover-car up to within metres of the windows of a building. But Amilthi didn’t care.

“You will do it anyway,” she said calmly and almost reassuringly, her hand subtly passing behind the man’s head.

The sign came in sight, and the driver almost missed it, having evidently miscounted, but Amilthi reminded him with a pointed, and slightly irritated word. The driver was clearly disconcerted when he spotted the figure precariously perched on the sign, but something in Amilthi’s demeanour made him surrender and submit to the situation. He brought the hover-car to a stop a few metres beneath the advertisement without a word of protest.

Amilthi looked up at the girl and gestured measuredly at the seat beside her. “Jump,” she shouted.

Lefwen Claskier

 

[Lefwen Claskier]

Lefwen gazed down at the hover-car which had just pulled up beneath her. Inside was a familiar face: the woman who had interfered at the fundraiser. The woman gestured to the seat next to her and shouted up at her, the words getting lost in the noise of the busy night-time traffic. The implication was obvious though, and Lefwen shook her head, clinging on to the sign. Her hands were starting to shake again, and her helmet was starting to fog up as her breathing became heavier. What in the galaxy was she doing?

Behind her she heard more shouting from inside the building, and the room beside her own suddenly lit up with the glare of flashlights. Whoever was in that building was moving from room to room, checking each one. She turned the wall directly beside her, the clear glass of the window reflecting her image back to her. She had to move, either back along the building or down into the car.

Lefwen got to her feet, clinging to the inside edges of the sign. She hadn’t noticed it so much when she’d climbed out the window, but it was a long, long way down. If she missed the car… well, it didn’t bare thinking about.

Little by little she peeled her fingers away from the cold metal, all the while trying to judge the distance to the car. She leant out slightly, and then immediately recoiled as a gust threatened to pull her from her perch. She swore under her breath. The woman below was still looking up at her expectantly. Behind her she could hear the door to the room being bashed in.

With one last sigh, Lefwen jumped into the night air. The wind battered against her loose clothing. The glare of lights flashed against her fogged-up mask. The hover-car rushed up to meet her. She landed with a thud, missing the seat and landing on the rear of the car. She didn’t have time to feel the pain though, as she felt herself starting to slide off of the slick surface of the vehicle. Her fingers reached out for something, anything to grab onto.

Amilthi Camlenn

 

[Amilthi Camlenn]

Suddenly, Lefwen felt the pull of gravity weakening, her body became light, weightless even, in a most unsettling way, and instinctively she continued to try to hold on to the hover car for fear of losing touch with it in the other direction - upwards. When she raised her head, she found herself looking straight at the strange woman's ice-blue eyes, and a moment later she felt the other's fingers once again close around her wrist. More gently now, they exerted only a slight pull and Lefwen floated forwards. When she was securely above the car, her stomach at the top of the backrest of the seat, gravity returned and she slumped over the seat, face-down, rather awkwardly.

Amilthi waited patiently until the girl had rearranged herself, then told the driver to move on. Finally, she turned to Lefwen, and only after another moment did she finally utter a word. “You’re a good liar”, she pointed out. Yet her voice was free from judgement of any sort, as if she was simply stating a fact. “Who are you?” It sounded more like a casual inquiry made out of curiosity than a demand for justification.

Lefwen sat awkwardly in the seat, feeling herself pushing against the side of the car, away from this bizarre woman. Without even thinking about it her hand began to fall down toward the knife at her waist. “Who am I? Who the heth are you?!” she heard herself demand, her voice muffled and shaking. “How did you get into my head? Why did you...” she trailed off, her face contorting into a frown behind the visor of her helmet.

A friendly smile appeared on Amilthi’s features. “Oh, I don’t know why”, she said nonchalantly. “I’m trying to find out. That’s why I’d like to hear your name. Mine is Amilthi Camlenn. And I want to know why those people are after you. And why you’re wearing that helmet.” There was a strange naiveté to her way of speaking, as if she were only reporting on someone else’s wishes, rather than putting herself behind her own words in a way that would have given them the force of a demand, or even a genuine request.

Lefwen cautiously allowed herself to relax. There was something soothing about the way this stranger spoke, something about the way she enunciated her words and the neutral tone with which every word was layered. “Elessa Corsanda. My name is Elessa Corsanda. I don’t know why those people were…” she paused, trying to navigate her way through the next sentence. “You were at the fundraiser,” she stated flatly.

“Madam, where should I…” interjected the driver hesitantly. “Turn?” Amilthi looked into the distance ahead for several moments, seemingly considering. “Landing pad L27-A West.” The man busied himself at a console, probably to interact with the computer to which he offloaded the humanly impossible task of remembering the myriad of landing pads all over the city and their locations.

Amilthi regarded the girl, or rather the helmet, with her head slightly tilted. “You’re not that good a liar”, she pointed out slowly.

Lefwen sighed quietly. Amilthi could clearly get into her head; that much had been demonstrated already, it had been too much to expect that she could maintain the facade. She reached back and pulled the helmet off, blinking slightly at the brightness of the city now that she wasn’t seeing it through scratches and finger-prints.

“I’m Lefwen Claskier.” She bit her lip. Amilthi probably already knew, so trying to stay hidden now was a waste of time. She regarded Amilthi for a moment, noting her formal clothes and the distant yet warm expression on her face. “You’re not with CTI?”

“Interesting”, said Amilthi, and appeared to consider for several seconds. “Nice to meet you”, she suddenly decided to say, and smiled again. “No, of course I’m not.” Again, a pause. “Just how inconvenient are you? Will a change in accommodation suffice, will it have to be the next city, or the other side of the galaxy?” It might have seemed odd that her mind suddenly jumped to such a shrewdly pragmatic consideration, yet again without any gravitas.
Lefwen’s face returned to its previous frown. “Inconvenient? You’re the one who got me to jump in this car!” The driver’s head snapped around as her voice rose. “What am I doing here?” she demanded, her hand falling back down to the knife once more.

“You are getting away from the people for whom you are inconvenient”, explained Amilthi patiently, still smiling. “And you won’t need that.” Nothing indicated what she was referring to. Lefwen was almost certain that the woman’s eyes had never darted so far down as to the knife at her waist.

This woman was infuriating. With a huff, Lefwen turned away and gazed out of the car. The city flashed past them in a stream of colours and lights. Every few moments the hover-car would lurch slightly, shifting between the indecipherable lanes of the skyway as the driver maneuvered them towards their destination. ‘I should have just bloody jumped’, Lefwen thought to herself grumpily. Her side was starting to ache now from her impact with the car, and she rubbed it idly while she thought. Amilthi was right about her being inconvenient for certain people, and it wasn’t like she had any choice but to humour this strange woman for the moment. If she really was just a kind benefactor then it would be foolish to turn down her help… a seat on a ship was certainly preferable to cramming herself in a container or hiding in the maintenance tunnels. She could always find a way to dispose of her later.

“Off-world would be best,” she stated flatly.

“I see”, said Amilthi with perfect earnestness. Again she looked into the distance, clearly not in the least afraid to leave Lefwen out of her sight, and thought. She could perhaps have convinced someone on the girl’s behalf to take her somewhere, but she did not intend to pay for it just yet, and wasn’t sure that Lefwen could. What was more, it would mean losing sight of the girl. Nor was she confident that Lefwen could keep herself and others out of trouble.

At the same time, her own ship was a single-seater starfighter ill-suited to the mission. “There will be a way”, she offered reassuringly, but did not elaborate.

Lefwen allowed them to sit in silence for a few minutes, content to avoid looking at the woman and pretending that she was somewhere else entirely. Eventually, though, she couldn’t contain her questions any more. “You never answered: why am I here? Why did you save me at the party? At the hotel? Why?”

Amilthi sat with her hands in her lap and seemed to have no problem enduring the silence. When Lefwen finally broke it, she turned to the girl. “I've already told you: I don’t know yet”, she said simply. “If you want to find out, you’ll need to answer some of my questions. So which is it? A wayward daughter? An estranged grand-niece? You're hardly someone's ex-wife”, she remarked with a quizzical look.

A lump was forming in Lefwen’s throat. For a moment she wanted to shout; scream so that this bizarre woman would stop talking. She swallowed the idea though, anger didn’t seem to phase Amilthi any more than Goros’ blaster had. She found herself picking at the scab on her hand, her fingers fidgeting as she tried to come up with an answer. Lying didn’t work. Anger didn’t work. And the truth was…

“I’m the daughter of Tamazin Claskier, current chief executive and founder of Claskier Technologies,” she stated with a resigned tone. “Dad thinks I’m dead,” she paused. “And if he knew I was alive…” she trailed off, the lump in her throat making it hard to swallow. “Well, let’s just say I’d rather he didn’t know, not yet anyway.”

Lefwen Claskier

 

[Lefwen Claskier]

When Amilthi caught her fingering her injured hand, she gently took Lefwen’s hand in her own as if to protect it. Lefwen began to jerk her hand away but stopped herself. She wasn’t sure why - if anyone else had touched her she’d have spun the knife round and into them in a moment. There was something about this woman however, something reassuring.

The Jedi did not comment and listened in silence. Nothing she heard seemed to unsettle her, and one might have wondered if Lefwen could have said anything at all to such effect.

“Strange”, said Amilthi pensively when Lefwen fell silent again. It was not quite clear what she was referring to - perhaps simply the unusual familial state of refers that was being reported.

The mystery was not yet unravelling itself. Amilthi noticed thinking that the person she had been in the past would have become distressed over this, frustrated and insecure. She noticed also the same impulses within herself still - but now being noticed was all they came to do, they never reached fruition and never disrupted her patience.

The taxi ascended further and approached an area near a quadruple landing pad that fanned out like a shamrock into the open air, designed for small, light craft. Its four arms were occupied by three light shuttles of various types and, unusually, one rather old and battered-looking starfighter. They stopped by a walkway from which the pad would be reachable within at most a few minutes, and Amilthi thanked the driver politely and paid the fare. The man seemed to be left with some confusion, but didn’t know himself about what.

Amilthi waited for Lefwen to set foot on solid ground and then followed with light, but very sure steps. Once there, she did not yet move towards the landing pad itself. “I’m afraid I’m not used to taking passengers with me”, she explained. “But if you want to leave this planet, it is your quickest option and it won’t cost you anything. You will just have to sit on my lap. Possibly duck your head a little so it doesn’t hit the canopy. Eriadu is not far.” She seemed completely oblivious to how ridiculous this might have sounded, and perfectly serious about the practicalities.

Lefwen regarded the starfighter in front of her with her mouth slightly ajar. “You can’t be serious,” she stated with almost a laugh, before turning to Amilthi and realizing immediately that Amilthi was entirely serious. The ship before them was small, a single seater for certain. It wasn’t a model she’d seen before, but the small canopy, sleek lines of the fuselage and pair of wing-mounted laser cannons clearly set it out as a fighter. The idea that the two of them could get on board would be ridiculous. Dammit, why had she followed this woman here? Why had she trusted her? She clearly had no plan…

Amilthi experienced a growing sense of unease as they were standing on the platform. She looked at Lefwen, clearly trying to hide her impatience, but not succeeding entirely.

As Lefwen brooded, a small, dark-grey object watched from just beyond the edge of the platform. Lenses clicked through visual spectrums, scanning the pair of women as it had done for the last several minutes. It hummed as it hovered, micro-thrusters maneuvering it from side to side as it built a full picture of the scene. The droid edged closer, following its programming to pursue its target. As it did so, the edge of its large, unblinking eye reflected a flash of light from a passing airspeeder.

The flicker of light caught Lefwen’s attention, pulling her out of her pacing. She stared intently for a moment, unable to see the small droid over such a distance. Nearby one of the other starships began to move away from the dock, its thrusters lighting the entire scene with an orange glow which lit up the droid like a candle in the night.

Lefwen immediately moved into action, grabbing Amilthi’s arm and spinning her around to face the droid. “We were followed!” she shouted. Amilthi’s eyes did not have to see out the droid, her gaze fell right on it when she was turned around. A myriad of possibilities flooded her mind, none of them appropriate to their civilised environs, or to the situation as a whole. The ideas dissipated, and the realisation dawned that this development might in an ironic way be in her interest. She wasn’t exactly looking forward to a flight in the configuration she envisaged, either, but at the same time, she had a vague feeling that the matter of this girl was not yet concluded. Mysteries of this sort did not simply appear and remain unresolved, or at least they shouldn’t.

Amilthi Camlenn

 

[Amilthi Camlenn]

“I suggest we hurry, then”, she stated dryly and turned around again. The canopy of the ship opened at a wave of her arm while she closed the remaining distance to her ship with determined steps. There was nothing like the ladder one would normally employ to reach the height of the cockpit - instead, the woman simply jumped off the ground with inhuman ease and grace, to land standing on the pilot’s seat. She sat down and leaned out to the side, extending a hand that Lefwen would be able to just about reach from the ground.

Lefwen had followed Amilthi to the ship, the entire time her eyes focussed on the droid which was now strafing to docks to keep them in its vision. Amilthi leapt into her starfighter with incredible grace, grace which Lefwen could not match. As the older woman reached her arm down Lefwen grabbed it and felt herself being pulled up into the ship. In an undignified heap she fell into the cockpit, landing on Amilthi with a groan. She scrabbled to move herself around to something vaguely comfortable, all the while trying to avoid touching or grabbing onto Amilthi, and ended up with most of her body in the footwell, her torso between Amilthi’s legs and the flight-controls directly in front of her face.

Leaning forward, her chest against the back of Lefwen's head, Amilthi reached around the girl between her legs and was perhaps not even looking when she flipped a switch and pushed a button. The engines started with tremendous noise that became dull and distant when the canopy closed over them and was secured. The fighter moved off the ground and floated when Amilthi sent power to the repulsorlifts with a little throttle to her left, then she pulled the stick up against Lefwen's chest, pointing the nose of the ship upwards at a slight angle and pushed a bigger throttle to increase engine output and put them in motion, ascending in a line that was rather less steep than she would have liked and even forced her to turn the ship to one side to avoid the top of a building.

"You're in the way. Besides, you won't be able to stand it down there for long", she stated, and unceremoniously grabbed Lefwen's collar and pulled her up and onto her lap quite forcefully. Despite some resistance, the girl complied and felt herself pulled backwards against Amilthi when the Jedi angled the ship more directly towards the sky.

After maybe half a minute, Amilthi tilted the starfighter to the left around its length axis so they could throw a parting glance at the surface. With her free hand, she thoughtfully supported Lefwen to prevent her from falling to the side against the canopy. "Look", she said, a smile not visible to Lefwen, but perhaps audible. The city below sat at the delta of a river, beyond it an expanse of swamps that looked purple from up here, and to its other side the ocean glistened in the sinking evening sun. Ships could be seen on the water, departing from and approaching a harbour that was itself not visible from their perspective. It was really quite the beautiful view.

After a few seconds that allowed them to take in the scenery, Amilthi set the ship straight again, took her hand off Lefwen’s side and increased the thrust, pushing them both further back into the seat. "Just some hours of discomfort. It will pass", she said encouragingly as they neared the upper atmosphere. "Nothing of lasting importance. Nothing of any importance at all, just some fleeting sensations."

Lefwen Claskier